


Those Who Favor Fire

by Rubynye



Series: Fire And Ice [5]
Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, Genderswap, Minor Character Death, Mirror Universe, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dr. Leah McCoy does not get a night off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Who Favor Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "[Can we get some likes-to-direct!Kirk in here?](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/2144.html?thread=34400#t34400)" at the [](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/profile)[**issenterprise**](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/) Kink Meme.  
> Content Advisory: **Non-consensual,** threats of violence (including towards a child), onscreen violence, offscreen character death. Interstitial segment to "[And Would Suffice](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/424591.html#cutid1)".  
> Acknowledgements: I wouldn't've written my Mirrorverse without [](http://graceandfire.livejournal.com/profile)[**graceandfire**](http://graceandfire.livejournal.com/)'s. There are some similarities of theme and coincidence to her "[Karma](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/15237.html)", but I finished this story before I read hers.

Title: Those Who Favor Fire  
Fandom: Star Trek XI  
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.  
Pairing: Mirror!Kirk/Mirror!Cupcake/Mirror!Leah McCoy  
Summary: In which Dr. Leah McCoy does not get a night off.  
Prompt: "[Can we get some likes-to-direct!Kirk in here?](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/2144.html?thread=34400#t34400)" at the Kink Meme.  
Content Advisory: **Non-consensual,** threats of violence (including towards a child), onscreen violence, offscreen character death. Interstitial segment to "[And Would Suffice](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/424591.html#cutid1)".  
Acknowledgements: I wouldn't've written my Mirrorverse without 's. There are some similarities of theme and coincidence to her "[Karma](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/15237.html)", but I finished this story before I read hers.  
_Disclaimer:_ None of these characters or their settings belong to me.  
Title from "[Fire and Ice](http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/779.html)" by Robert Frost.  


Leah pulls her face straight as she strides towards the Captain's quarters. He may be too hurt for his usual after-mission celebrations (stabbed in the groin and left testicle, and the survivors of the away team aren't talking because they know what's good for them, but Leah wonders just how he pissed off some unfortunate native enough to inflict such a _personal_ injury) but Kirk can certainly make her pay steeply for any hint of amusement.

Not least since tonight's also when Kirk inputs the weekly code to keep the chip in Joanna's arm from detonating. Some weeks he's made Leah wait for hours, coming up to seconds from the deadline as he chats about nothing and watches her vibrate with impatient worry; he's smirked as she begged on her knees, ordered her to make a fool of herself trying to dance like an Orion, set his padd on her head and typed in the code while she sucked him. The irony of it is, Joanna adores Kirk like a favorite uncle, and he treats her like a favorite pet. Rationally, Leah tries to convince herself Kirk wouldn't kill Joanna, to stop making it so easy for him to wind her up with that threat, but week after week her rational mind freezes up rather than ever call that bluff.

It's been a helluva day, three casualties from the away team, not counting Kirk's left nut, and she's even less in the mood than usual. As she arrives at the Captain's quarters she doesn't dare smile, so she folds her arms and tries to radiate neutral severity. Doing her best to look uninteresting, Leah hopes he'll keep it brief and actually get half the rest she told him he needs, that he'll let her get back to reading the latest journals and watching Joanna sleep.

The door whisks open. "Bones!" Kirk calls from his desk, smiling toothily, "you're out of uniform."

Leah grimaces. Kirk likes to bother her about her insistence on wearing male uniforms instead of the bikini top and glorified belt the women are issued, which is probably why he allows her to. "I'm a doctor, _Captain_," she snaps before she thinks, right on cue, and feels mildly disgusted with herself; it's almost banter by now. "Even we female medical staff need more than a few scraps of--"

A movement beside Kirk's bed catches Leah's eye -- it's a tall, wide, _naked_ man stepping around the partition and striding forward. Chief of Security Lt. Commander Collinson, the goon Kirk's nicknamed Cupcake, smirking nastily through his stupid goatee, meaty fists settled on his hips, erection thrust forward like a truncheon.

Leah's mouth falls open on a useless goddamn gasp. She snaps it shut, firming up her jaw, backing away towards the door. "Oh, Hell no." Hot outrage surges in her veins, swamping her obedience, bolstering her voice. "No, _Sir_," and that's already more insubordination than even a playful Kirk will indulge but her defiance picks up speed and volume, "you can suck each other's dicks because I'm _not_\--"

Kirk shrugs one hand up, brandishing his personal padd, and just like that Leah slams from hot to cold, rage to terror, biting down on her lips as the door smacks up against her back. Collinson stands there watching their little drama like some entertainment put on in the goddamn Rec Room.

The door slides open, and without its confining support Leah wobbles. Kirk tilts his head a little, narrowing his eyes that way he does before he hits an opponent's weak point and rips them open, that look he gets when considering whether to kiss her or bite her. "You _could_ return to your quarters, _Doctor McCoy_," he says coolly, almost without inflection. "But I don't think you'll like what you'll find if you do."

Leah's fists clench, her eyes squeeze shut, she wishes with sickening force she'd taken the dagger Kirk offered her so she could gut him with it now. But she knows the only person she could hurt with it is herself, and Joanna's nowhere near old enough to leave alone, not with her favorite sociopathic Captain Jim, not anywhere in this shitty Empire.

Leah's knee bends, her foot slides forward, her weight shifts and the door shuts behind her. "Captain," she murmurs, and her voice isn't her own, small and shaking. Her heel detaches from the floor, her hip pivots, her leg straightens. "Just input it. Please."

Kirk sighs elaborately. "Can't put it anywhere at the moment. Doctor's orders." Leah's teeth grind together, pain sparking into her jaw. "And I think I need a little break from all this paperwork." Collinson snickers, and Leah thinks longingly of spitting in his face. "Come here, Bones," Kirk coaxes with a little sideways smile, a sickening parody of kindness, and Leah shudders but takes another slow step. "That's my girl."

_I'm not your girl,_ Leah thinks, clearly and pointlessly, as she staggers forward. She tells herself not to open her mouth, parts her bitten lips, and spits out the words.

Kirk snorts. Collinson laughs. "That's insubordination, sir. Want me to discipline her for you before we get started?"

"At ease, Cupcake." Leah hears Kirk's chair creak as he stands up, his normal stride hitched with a slight limp. "When I want you to pipe up I'll tell you what to say."

Leah stands, and shivers, and waits, dread settling chilly in her gut. Air eddies around her as Kirk steps close, and she braces herself for a blow. He hasn't hit her in front of anyone before, but he's never offered her to anyone else before either. He made it clear no one besides him but Joanna even gets to touch her. The other day she actually forgot and when she reached to pat Chapel's arm her head nurse shied away, eyes flaring in fear.

Kirk's hand lands on Leah's cheek, incongruously light for the violent shudder that wrenches through her. "Open those eyes, Bones." His voice is soft and deadly, and she cracks them open, not even trying not to glare. Kirk just pats her cheek, his smirk indulgent. "There you go. Now that uniform doesn't really suit you, but you seem to like it, so if you want to keep it you'd better take it off yourself."

Like hell she will. Leah jerks her burning face away into a headshake, dropping her eyes, hoping he's satisfied with this humiliation. "Sir, you've made your point." Her fists clench more tightly, short nails denting bright steadying pain into her palms. "Just, just put in the code and dismiss -- him." She doesn't struggle for as long as she used to, as long as she should, before she adds, "I'm begging you."

Kirk slides a finger under her chin, and her skin quivers. "Bones, honey, there _is_ no point." He raises his voice a bit. "Hey, Cupcake, I guess you're going to have to help her."

"Yes, Sir!" Collinson steps nearer. Leah inhales on a dizzying adrenaline spike and dodges, darting around Kirk's desk. He could've stopped her, but he just watches, his smirk tilted sideways and his eyes alight with laughter.

"But--" As Collinson lumbers after her, grinning and unhurried, Leah feels herself gasping, her heart racing. "What the blazes happened to no one ever touching me?"

"Without my permission," Kirk explains with amused patience, his arms folded, the all-important padd dangling from his careless fingertips. "Sulu made a bid for Collinson's position, so I thought I'd show my security chief how I value him." Said hulking security chief paces forward, slowly backing Leah against the wall as her fingers twitch towards her one hidden weapon.

"What's that got to do with me?" Leah hoists her fists, right higher than left, and Collinson laughs; Leah has large hands for a woman her height, steady as a doctor's need to be, but she's no kind of fighter and everyone onboard knows it. "I didn't support Sulu! I don't care how your gang of thugs sort out their pecking order!" Waving her right fist to draw Collinson's attention, pushing thought through the din of panic, Leah's too busy to halt her mouth and it keeps running. "What do you _want_ from me, Kirk?"

She forgot to call him 'Sir,' too. She knows on a fresh surge of fear he didn't miss her omission, but he just laughs, watching Collinson grab at her; she lets those thick fingers clamp around her right wrist as she snatches the hypo of sedative from her left pocket and swings it up--

Collinson bats it from her grip, grabs her left wrist too and jerks her in, spinning her and folding her into a perverse hug. He smells like a horse. "Gotcha, Doc," he blows hot through her hair. "She's a live one, Sir!" He pulls her in tighter as she thrashes, a slab of hard meat against her back, his erection denting her ass. "Didn't know she had it in her." Leah stomps on his toes and he doesn't even budge, just grunts and lifts her off her feet, arms crushingly tight across her chest.

"Cupcake my friend, you're in for a wild ride," Kirk purrs, stepping out of the way as Collinson hauls Leah back into the middle of the room.

She's been too busy fighting to speak, but that really does it. "He can ride you off to _Hell_, you sadistic bastard," she shrieks, too high, too breathless, much too honest, but she's trying to bang her heels into Collinson's knees and can't quite aim right. "I'm not gonna gratify your favorite goddamn brute, so get him offa me!"

Collinson drops Leah in front of Kirk. She completely intends to shove herself to her feet and march out, until she looks up into his hot blue eyes, until he waves the padd at the edge of her vision and she remembers why she's here. "Bones," he says, his voice so infuriatingly _warm_, "you know what I want? To watch Collinson fuck you." She flinches, and he just smiles wider. "Now behave and take off your clothes."

Leah's eyes burn, but she presses her mouth shut, holds her chest rigid against a furious sob. She's played this wrong. Men like these enjoy getting reactions, so she's not giving them anything more if she can help it. Turning her gaze down to the carpet, forcing herself to breathe slowly -- out for a count of four, in for a count of four -- Leah pulls her shirt off, then her undershirt, folding each. As she unhooks her bra, Collinson puffs over her like the animal he is, and she feels Kirk watching her with that smirk and those hot blue eyes, but neither of them speak.

While she pulls off one boot she thinks about how she could swing it up and back, and maybe hurt Collinson badly enough to keep him from fucking anything for at least a week. She pulls off the other, judging its weight and balance in her hand, and Kirk says, "Bones," in the gentle scolding voice he uses on a misbehaving Joanna, and God, she can't think of her baby girl now, not in the middle of this. "Get on with it."

She should say, 'Yes, Sir.' She wants to shout every curse she knows. She just grits her teeth until her jaw creaks and shimmies out of her pants.

"Where's her agonizer?" Collinson asks with lunkish curiosity.

Kirk snorts dismissively. "That would be boring." He leans in on Leah's right, offering her a hand. She pointedly pushes up with her left, avoiding his help. "Panties too, Bones." She peels them down her thighs and steps out of them, folding her arms as she stands there naked and hot-faced, glaring at Kirk's shiny black boots as he breathes a pleased noise and Collinson's whistle behind her brushes her nape.

"I don't see why you call her Bones, Sir," Collinson says, like she can't hear him. Maybe he's used to sexual congress with partners too stupid or unconscious to understand speech. "Can I?" At least she has that warning before his hand lands heavily, wide and damp on the middle of her back. "I thought she'd be skinny under all those clothes, but..." He drags it down her skin, sense-memory like trails of slime prickling in its wake. "You got good taste in girls." His hand veers off her spine to squeeze hard on the swell of her ass, and she tamps down on the quiver, doesn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her twitch.

"Glad you approve." Kirk steps away from Leah, and she actually almost looks up, has to crimp her arms tighter to keep from reaching for him. "Carry on, then." She hears the rustle as he sits, probably on his desk rather than behind it, and curses herself for wanting to call out to him as Collinson chuckles and wraps his other arm around her chest, pulling her back against himself.

Or, no, it makes a kind of sense, Kirk is at least familiar. She knows professionally what's happening to her head, and tries to drag up something useful, but dim memories of lectures and screens of text fall away under Collinson's groping fingers. She shudders and he snickers, hot and damp on her neck, curling his hand around her breast. "What a waste of clothes," he says, her guts churning as his other hand spreads over her belly. "If you were my woman I wouldn't even let you wear the girls' uniform."

"I'm not your woman," Leah says, trying for cold, at least achieving angry. "Get on with--" Her nipple twinges between his fingers, and her voice hitches. "Dammit, just do it."

"Do what?" Collinson draws out the words as he tweaks her nipple again. Leah's shoulder twitches with the thought of driving her elbow backwards into his diaphragm, but she can't shift it, he's got her pinned too well.

"Get a move on," Kirk says from behind them. "Right turn, Cupcake. Bones, face him."

Collinson grabs Leah up off her feet as he complies, startling a noise out of her despite everything, an additional fillip of searing humiliation. "Put me down, you lummox," she snaps, twisting out of his grip.

Kirk snorts with amusement. She'd glare at him but Collinson pulls her back in, meaty hands spread over her spine, and she pushes against his chest uselessly before she can stop herself. He's frowning at least, she didn't think he'd even know what 'lummox' meant.

But then he grins, and when her fists ball up involuntarily he gathers both her wrists in one big hand, pinning them without concern over his heart. "This lummox is gonna fuck you through the floor, Girl Doc," he says, leering. "You might as well just relax."

Instead she spits right between his piggy eyes, and for good measure she laughs as saliva drips down his nose and his face crumples into rage, as fear spikes into exhilaration. His grip tightens, mashing a bruise into her waist and making her wrists creak, pain flaring across her back and up into her hands, and she gasps, "Can you even fuck anyone who's not trussed up or knocked out?" She's naked, she can't stop this, but she'll be damned if she's just going to shut up and surrender.

Collinson looks like he's about to hit her, and if he hurts her too much Kirk might stop him, maybe. But Kirk laughs, and Collinson's eyes flick sideways to him. Leah looks away, towards the distant door.

"I love the banter, really, and you two look so sexy together, but I don't think you've got the balance to fuck on your feet, Cupcake. Wipe your face and get on the floor. You too, Bones." Collinson lets go of her wrists to swipe his face dry, dragging her down with him as he kneels. She thumps down off-balance, bouncing with a startled squeak, and Collinson snickers as he pushes her back on the scratchy industrial carpet. Leah wants to kick him more than she wants to _breathe_, but she grudgingly has to agree with Kirk that they need to get this over with. The sooner she pleases this slab of musclebound cretinism and the blue-eyed sadist who captains this ship, the sooner Kirk will enter that code and she can go autoclave herself in the shower.

"Careful, you lummox, if I wanted her hurt she'd be in the agony booth." Startled by the insult, Leah glances at Kirk, and he motions them on with a little two-fingered whirl. "Kiss her already."

Leah tenses to snarl as Collinson leans over her, that this isn't that kind of dance and the last thing she'll do is act like it's anything she remotely wants, but he hesitates, looking up at Kirk. "Sir, permission to speak freely?" Kirk nods negligently. "She's gonna bite me."

Leah's laugh rips painfully from her throat. "Oh, look, he's got one functioning brain cell!"

But Kirk exhales with ominous impatience. "McCoy," he says, low and commanding, and she hates herself because she can't defy that voice, "I order you not to bite Collinson." Leah looks up at him, his tight mouth, his blazing eyes. "_Bones_."

"Sir," she answers, bitterly obedient. "Yes, Sir." She doesn't look at whatever smirky triumph is on Collinson's face; she closes her eyes, blows out a slow breath, and goes limp on the floor.

Another lesson, this one from Jake. She couldn't always make herself do this, more often than not her innate stubbornness would straighten her spine and keep her yelling despite how much harder Jake would hit her for it. But sometimes she just went limp, just stopped resisting, and Jake would give up in disgust, leave her and stalk away, slam the door and not return for hours.

It doesn't work as well with Kirk, he gets under her skin in ways Jake never thought of. But it works sometimes, when he's so exhausted even he can't just brazen through it, when he doesn't have all the time he wants to torment her, and right now Kirk isn't the one on the floor with her. Collinson's meaty hand is tentative on her face, and she can't help shuddering but she doesn't try to dodge. Carpet thin and scratchy beneath her, metal decking chill under that, and Collinson's exactly as bad at this as she expected, slablike lips and raspy beard.

"That," Kirk comments, "is a seriously unsexy kiss." Collinson growls and gives up, and Leah pushes down the desperate urge to wipe her face; he paws over her breast and arm and shoulder, and she presses her fists against the floor and doesn't let herself try to twist away. But then he grabs her hair and it's all she can do not to gasp at the burn through her scalp, as his hot open mouth smears across her collarbones and up her throat. "That's better," she hears from Kirk through the rising buzz in her head, but if she lets herself curse she might just scream. All she can do, as Collinson tugs her hair until her neck arches and scratchily tries to hickey her, is grit her teeth and hold herself still.

"You still awake there, Bones?" Kirk asks, his mild tone sliding deeper under her skin than Collinson's teeth can press. "Not bored, are you?"

Leah tells herself to let silence answer, tells herself not to flip him off, not to talk, not to move, and on the next breath croaks, "Fuck you." Kirk inhales expectantly. "_Sir_."

He exhales a laugh, and Leah actually sees red flicker behind her scrunched eyelids. "Yeah, we might as well get to that. Cupcake, catch."

Collinson drags his mouth off her neck and she hears something small sail through the air and smack into his hand. "What's this for?"

"Heh," says Kirk, like he's holding back some damn joke, and, "I don't want her damaged. Lube up."

Leah worries the inside of her bottom lip between her teeth, pressing her tongue to the protein-and-metal taste of the bruise. She can get through this, like she used to make it through Jake's beatings, like she can sometimes manage to endure Kirk. Collinson may fuck her but he can't move her. The wet slick noise crackles down her jangling nerves but she doesn't let the shudder surface. When Collinson touches her she can't keep from jerking visibly as his big slippery fingers push her open, but she concentrates on the rasp of carpet under her hands and her back, the bright throb of her teeth sunk in her lip, and doesn't move and doesn't move.

"She always this quiet?" Collinson slides a meaty hand along the back of her leg, pushing it up, and a whimper flutters in the back of Leah's throat but she swallows it down. Even when he leans closer, breathing hot over her forehead, "Bet I can make her scream."

"Easy, there," Kirk admonishes, "this isn't an interrogation."

"Yes, Sir." Collinson nudges in alongside his fingers, blunt and hot, and Leah's shaking, shaking hard, but she barely feels it. It's like she's sitting across the room, watching herself flat on the floor with Collinson over her and Kirk observing from his desk. "C'mere," Collinson mutters as he grips her waist and drags her closer, her leg over his chest, and he shoves in and she breathes out. She can get through this. Sweat runs icy down her skin and Collinson grunts as he thrusts, a heavy intrusive thumping and a rhythmic bruising stretch, but she keeps thinking of how this will be over soon, of a scalding shower and a dermal regenerator, that she can get through this.

Under the awful smack of flesh colliding she hears Kirk breathe an appreciative noise, and doesn't turn her head, not towards him, not away. "I want to see those tits bounce," he calls, and Collinson knocks a whimper out of her before she can clamp down on it. Her aching eyes overflow, two hot streams of tears down the sides of her face, but she's not sobbing. Her lip oozes between her tight-clenched teeth, blood and rank sweat all she tastes in the back of her throat, but she's not screaming.

Something clinks on Kirk's desk, and the smell of alcohol cuts through Collinson's reek. Wonderful, Kirk's drinking, which is against her standard instructions, and why does she care if he incapacitates himself with that crazy Scott's moonshine while he lets his pet goon fuck her on the floor of his quarters? The thought makes her thrash like she could dislodge it, loosening her grip enough that Collinson knocks a high noise out of her, and he grunts a nasty laugh and a sob shakes her chest.

But it doesn't escape aloud. Leah hangs onto herself, even when Kirk says, "You should see yourself, Bones." He sips, and Collinson ruts, and Leah curls her fists up so tightly her hands ache to match her eyes. "You look so fucking hot, you know, with this strapping specimen of manhood giving you all he's got." She stares at the darkness behind her eyelids and shoves the images away. "It's something else to watch you jiggling so nicely without being distracted by the feel." If he says they should do this again she doesn't know how she'll hold back the scream, but he doesn't. He just drinks and watches, and asks instead, "What's running through your head, during that whole lie back routine you've got going? What sweet little thoughts?"

She thinks of the little daughter she's trying to keep safe, the code she's trying to earn, and shatters into struggle, arching on a gasp of pain. "No," she cries at Kirk, and tries to throw her hand across her own mouth, but Collinson leans forward to catch and pin her wrists as Kirk just chuckles. "No, no, oh, God..." The angle shifts, equally uncomfortable but sharper, deeper, and panic buffets her and she can't breathe, her chest seizing up on sobs. _No, damn it all, no_, she thinks, crying too hard to even speak.

Through Collinson's smacking and grunting, through her own noise and her blood roaring in her ears, Leah hears Kirk's smug, "I knew you could do better, Bones. Cupcake, stop." Collinson groans incredulously, shuddering to a halt, pulls out and lets go, and Leah kicks and squirms as far as a breath's fighting will take her before the sobs crumple her up and she slumps facedown, pressing her slicked thighs together, hiding her head under her arms.

Collinson pants over her, his bulk suspended on arms and thighs like a cage around her body, and eventually he gasps plaintively, "Sir? I was--"

"You'll get your rocks off, don't worry," Kirk says. "Bones, look at me." Still shuddering, she wraps her arms tighter over her head as if she can physically hold herself back from obeying him. "Look at me," Kirk repeats, slower and silkier, and she hates every individual muscle in her neck as it bends, hates her arms for sliding off her head, hates herself for it, but she looks up.

He's standing right in front of them, tall and dangerous and smiling; he barely winces as he crouches, and his hand cupping her cheek pulls a worse sob out of her than Collinson ever managed. "There's my girl," he says, thumb smearing down a tear-track, and she can't even deny it. "Hands and knees."

She's shaking and coughing, breath hitching, but she does it, as Kirk's fingers smooth with horrible gentleness over her wet face, as he holds her blurry gaze. "There you go." He beckons over her shoulder. "Back in, but don't thrust, not yet."

Leah tries to drop her head but Kirk pushes it up. With a big damp hand clamped on her thigh and an exasperated groan, Collinson shoves into her again, and she winces, shutting out Kirk's eyes by shutting hers, her gasp too close to a cry.

"Look at me," Kirk orders, pushing his thumbpad wet along her bottom lip, and she tries to shut her mouth but whimpers uncontrollably, shaking too hard around Collinson sunk into her and under Kirk's hand. "Don't make me tell you again."

Somewhere between them, in her battered heart, Leah finds a scrap of defiance. "Or what?" She shouldn't, she knows she shouldn't, Kirk can always make it worse, but right now she can't even imagine how, can't think of anything beyond this.

Kirk just smiles, wide and amused. "Such a pretty mouth." She tries to twist her head away and he catches her face between both hands. "You know why I didn't make you blow him with this luscious mouth?" She doesn't, she doesn't want to, she doesn't want him to taunt her with how much longer he can drag this torment out. "I wanted to watch your face. These eyes, this mouth." Her stupid, transparent reactions.

Collinson shifts impatiently, kneeing Leah's legs that much further apart, and Kirk flashes a grin at him, sunny and cheerful and all the more awful. "Sorry, Cupcake. You've put on a hell of a show, but I'm just a hands-on kind of guy." Kirk pushes Leah's shoulders up as she barely manages to scrabble at his arms, until her carpet-burned back stings against Collinson's sweaty chest. "Hold her up?" Gathering her wrists in one hand, he pulls them up over her head, and Collinson grabs them as Kirk sits back, admiring the effect.

Leah glares at Kirk through the fallen tendrils of her hair, dangling from Collinson's thick fingers and spitted on him and even more humiliatingly displayed than just being stark naked. After a moment, Kirk pulls out her hairpin, and the rest of her hair tumbles down around her face. "There," he says with satisfaction. "As you were."

But he doesn't back off. Leah's teeth almost meet through her top lip as Collinson grunts, "Thank you, Sir!" and bounces her, and she feels him in the back of her fucking throat but she manages not to make any noise. Kirk's eyebrows pull in a bit as he strokes her cheek again, and her guts squirm, her scraped-out throat tightening with dread.

Her hair flares out all over, her breasts jiggle ridiculously, Collinson's huffing in her ear and Kirk's watching her with challenge in his eyes. Leah swears she'll make him work for it, but that crashes almost immediately when he leans in with one hand braced on Collinson's shoulder and his lips by her ear. "Now where's my lively Bones?" he murmurs, his fingers skimming knowingly down her body, and panic wells up like an internal bleed.

She shakes her head uselessly, unable to keep still as his hand traces her carotid and flickers over her collarbones; his fingers draw a circle around her nipple, tightening sensitive skin, raising sparks of unwelcome pleasure. "No," she gasps, and worse noises push up her throat thrust by thrust, trying to spill out. "No, stop, _please_," and her voice tilts high and breaks as he pets over her ribs, nerves lighting under his hand and Collinson jostling her over and over. "No, no, _no_," as Kirk's tongue slickly traces the curves of her ear, as he strokes her belly like a devastating kiss. Something twists beneath his hand as he slides it lower, and she thrashes her head away from his mouth and wrenches her wrists in Collinson's grip but she can't get away from either of them. "No!" is all that falls out of her mouth, over and over, and when Kirk brushes her clit with one deadly fingertip she screams it.

"I think yeah," Kirk whispers, pinning her head to Collinson's sweat-slick shoulder, his arm a hard bandolier of muscle across her, relentlessly stroking her exactly how he knows she likes until her clit absolutely buzzes under his fingers. Fire climbs her nerves and she sobs, tears running down her chin, and Collinson grunts something she can't even hear under her own noise and Kirk's eager breath in her ear and the buzz ricocheting up her spine into her brain. She twists and struggles and they pin her between them, trapped and pounded and invaded; her body flutters around Collinson and he groans in satisfaction, she slams her head back and screams and comes like a seizure, pulses of sensation crushing her from the inside out.

Collinson is shouting or cursing or something, Leah doesn't even know, her ears are ringing and her diaphragm's in spasm and she can't breathe, she can't breathe. Collinson lets her go and she slumps to the floor, his fingers press hot dents into her hips and he slams his final strokes into her and comes in a sticky, shuddering gush. Beside them, Kirk applauds, groaning, "I want to fuck you _so much_ right now."

Panting, Collinson peels Leah off like an aching glove, slaps her ass and leaves her there. Her nipples burn against the rough carpet until she drags one arm under them and the other around her rolling belly, sick and sore and shaken with deep heaves as she hauls her legs together, curling into a tight sobbing knot of misery.

Somewhere over her, Kirk is giving Collinson a drink, the two of them are laughing. She should get herself off the goddamn floor, she knows; she can picture herself limping into Kirk's shower, examining and scrubbing herself, pulling her clothes on again and somehow some dignity too. She thinks of ordering Collinson to learn how to treat his own injuries because he'd better never set foot in her Sickbay. But she can't uncurl, she can't stop shivering, she can't move. The door opens and shuts, Collinson is gone and Kirk is sipping and breathing and watching her, and she still can't move.

Minutes or moments or hours later, Kirk's dagger clinks on his desk, and she hears him mutter a curse of pain as he kneels beside her. "Hey, look up." For once he sounds no older than he actually is, not much more than an overgrown boy. Leah opens her sore eyes and sees mostly her own hair, tumbled over her head and stuck to her wet face; Kirk strokes it back, his leer so disgustingly _pleased_ she thinks a litany of curses and breaks out in a fresh round of gut-twisting sobs.

"Bones," Kirk says, stroking her tear-raw cheek, "I can't show you if you don't look." Her eyes still blurred and streaming, she gulps air, tips her head up and focuses on the padd he holds. He types quickly and hits 'enter' with a flourish, and she hears the little three-tone 'whirr' that means Joanna's chip's been disarmed for another week.

Leah tries to be relieved, and just feels numb and shredded, pressed dry and hollowed out, emptied of tears and sunk to sniffling. Kirk brushes his hand through her hair, setting off a quiver of revulsion that makes her teeth chatter but doesn't translate into actually dragging herself away.

After a couple more strokes she manages to jerk her head, at least. "Leave me the hell alone," she mutters into the floor.

"Bones, honey," Kirk croons, as if she's being unreasonable, as if she's not in her right mind, and she's _not_ because he just used his head goon to violate her. "I can't pick you up, it's medically contraindicated, remember?" He tucks his hands around her shoulders and tugs, and she flails pathetically at his arm but slumps against his leg, her head lolling on his thigh.

"There you go, I got you." Petting her hair all the while, he pulls out his communicator . "Kirk to Security Chief Sulu." Her head throbs, her sinuses are raw, her throat is sore from screaming, and that's where she gives up the self-inventory and just lets herself shiver. "Collinson's on the way from my quarters, probably reached Corridor B-18 by now. I softened him up for you with a bit of sedative. Put him out an airlock and his job's officially yours."

It takes Leah some hazy moments to comprehend what she just heard. She startles and looks up of her own will, and finds Kirk watching her. He shrugs, and she has nothing to say. Decompression is a terrible death... and after what Collinson just did to her she'll never have to see him again, never have to wonder who he's bragged to. Tonight will just be one more torment Kirk's inflicted on her because he can, because she's his.

Kirk just strokes her hair, and Leah lies on the hard floor with her head on his hard thigh. In four minutes his communicator will chirp with Sulu's report of success. In fifteen she'll haul herself to her feet and stumble towards Kirk's shower; when he reaches to help her she'll smack his hands away, and he'll smirk as he lets her. In forty minutes she'll be drunk on Kirk's bottle of rotgut moonshine, in ninety she'll fall fitfully asleep in his bed, dressed but for her boots. In seven hours he'll order her off duty for the day and she'll spend it sneaking communiques with Chapel and playing with a delighted Joanna. In twenty-two hours she'll put her daughter to bed with a new story sent by the Captain, and in twenty-four she'll be crying again, silently as she watches Joanna sleep.

But right now, Leah's mind is blank and dark. She lies on the floor of Kirk's quarters as he runs his fingers through her hair, and when he startles her to awareness by asking her if she's all right, she finds the strength to snort derisively and tell him, "I hate you."

"I know," Kirk replies, and keeps on stroking Leah's hair.


End file.
